


It Burns Deep

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2019 [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dragons, F/M, General Unpleasantness, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Sort Of, but doesn't follow either of those stories, hints of beauty and the beast but also hades and persephone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 08:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18279671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: When Edward interferes with Gotham's sacrifice to the Dragon King, he takes her place. What he finds at the mouth of the Dragon King's lair, however, is the last thing he expects.Day 6: Fairytale





	It Burns Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This was the only fic I wrote ahead of time, so while I'm scrambling to finish the others, I figured I could at least post this on the right day. I've already written a number of fairy tale stories, so I went for the old classic "dragon demands sacrifices" theme and followed wherever it decided to go. I feel like it's a little rough around the edges, but I certainly don't have the time to polish it when I'm 3 fics behind.
> 
> Note: ao3 told me I had to spell it "jailer" instead of "jailor" so I said fuck it, we're using the medieval "gaoler" - even if I only use the word once

Edward sat, curled up, in the driest corner of the cell they’d thrown him in, mentally tracing the cracks in the floor. He wasn’t sure how long he was to stay there – presumably until the council could decide his fate.

 

“I thought you didn’t believe in this whole thing?” he had asked his gaoler when the bolts had slid into place. Jim had given him a pitying look and said, “I don’t. But we can’t just go breaking laws we don’t agree with.”

 

As if he hadn’t done just that when his partner was in trouble. But then, Edward supposed, that might be different. He wouldn’t know. He was no one’s partner, just the freak who walked a shade too close to witchcraft for the village’s comfort. Lee knew his value, let him help around her apothecary, but even as awkward as he was, he could tell that she put up a barrier around him that she let down around her real friends.

 

Jim Gordon’s hatred of the whole affair had been his best hope, but it had always been a slim one. Now, with nothing left to do but wait, he pondered the circumstances that led him to this damp and miserable cage.

 

Everything. Yes, _everything_ could be traced to one Tom Dougherty. Edward had always despised the man. He was loud, occasionally crass, but charming enough for the people he cared about. But there was always something… nasty to him. He always clapped Edward’s shoulder a touch too hard, laughed a little too loud at criminals in the stocks, spoke a little too passionately about his prowess in combat. But Edward was an outsider to the townsfolk, and Dougherty was a beloved member of the community. He served on the council, but unlike many of the stuffy, delicate upper crust, he actually fought side by side with the fighters of the village, earning him a great deal of respect and friendship that Edward couldn’t help but envy.

 

And then.

 

And then there was Miss Kringle. Kristen Kringle was the most gorgeous girl in the entire town to Edward. She always had been, with her beautiful red hair, equally fiery eyes, and gentle composition. Edward knew she wasn’t particularly fond of him, but even then, she was often at least polite. That was significantly more effort than most of the villagers extended on his behalf. In fact, she had even been kind to him on a few occasions, and he cherished each and every one of those memories. The time she had laughed at a joke he made. The time she had answered one of his riddles. The time he got sick and she made him soup.

 

Still, Edward had known that she didn’t look at him the way he looked at her. The way she looked at the warriors of the village. And besides, her parents would never have accepted _him_ , of all people, as a suitable husband for their daughter, even if her beauty and wit escaped most of the narrow-minded villagers. What parents would?

 

But when the news spread that they had arranged a match with _Tom Dougherty_ , it was still a hard blow. He didn’t trust him with her as far as he could throw him. But who was he to object? It was a perfect match in the eyes of the town.

 

Two years into their marriage, and Kristen had lost so much of her fire. Her spirit wasn’t broken, but it was a near thing. No one else seemed to notice, saying she looked much better than she had in her youth. She was finally showing promise as a wife and mother. Edward rather thought she would have made a good explorer, the way they used to play when they had both been very small children.

 

Except, there was a _slight_ problem, discovered too late. If the Kringles had been of higher ranking, with their lineage under closer scrutiny, it might have been known. But as it was, she was the first woman on her father’s side of the family who had made it to adulthood in living memory. The diseases that wracked the women of her family had seemed to miss her for the most part, with only one great health scare in her youth. No one had suspected, however, that she might be unable to bear children. Five years, three doctors, and two priests later, Kristen seemed on the brink of collapse but no nearer to bearing Dougherty an heir.

 

Edward tried to check in on her, make sure she was okay, but there was only so much he could do in his position. Marriage to that oaf was crushing her, slowly but surely, and Edward feared it would be her death.

 

He just never expected that to be quite so intentional on Dougherty’s part.

 

The town of Gotham was an average town of the time in every way expect one: it was situated on a river flowing out of a great mountain. And that mountain happened to be the home of an immensely powerful dragon.

 

And what sort of self-respecting dragon doesn’t demand sacrifices from the cowering inhabitants of the town below?

 

Twice a year, on the equinoxes, the council would select a villager to send up to the dragon as a tithe in return for safety. The dragon demanded only that the sacrifices be fairly young and healthy – they needed some life in them. Following that guideline, the council chose those villagers they believed had the least to contribute to the community as a whole. Those without jobs, or skills, or who had failed in a previous duty. To be chosen was to bring shame on yourself and your family, in addition to being thrown to a murderous dragon and presumably becoming its next meal.

 

In all his wildest nightmares, Edward would never have imagined Dougherty would put forward Kristen’s name as a candidate for the autumnal sacrifice.

 

His reasons were simple: Kristen’s role in the community was primarily as his wife, and as such, her duties included taking care of him, keeping his house, and bearing him heirs. She was argumentative and quarrelsome, much more trouble than a wife ought to be. She had spent her youth running through the woods with the town freak – or worse – alone, instead of properly learning how to keep a house. And as everyone in the town knew by then, she was likely barren. She had failed in every way as his wife. The council was in complete agreement. There was nothing else she had to offer the community, and since she could not perform the tasks assigned to her, she would serve them best by serving the dragon above.

 

Jim had put up the same fuss he always did, yelling about how they shouldn’t just let the dragon walk all over them. But as always, his protests came to nothing, and he was never particularly inclined to act outside the law unless it served his own interests.

 

Edward didn’t hear about it right away. He lived away from the center of town and avoided gossip at all costs. He had been a victim of it one too many times to be able to enjoy it. When he finally did find out, it was because he, like everyone else, was required to attend the sending off ceremony.

 

Seeing Kristen marched through the streets, a shiny circlet in her gorgeous ginger curls to entice the dragon, hands bound, and drugged into compliance had Edward seething. He saw red, his entire being shifting like it hadn’t since the night one decade past when his parents had beat him for the last time. He saw through his own eyes as he moved, but he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to – and he hadn’t wanted to.

 

In this instance, he leapt over the measly barrier between the villagers and the procession, using the full force of his body to knock out the lone guard that was assigned to ensure the sacrifice reached the dragon. Kristen turned towards the commotion, dazed from the smoke the sacrifices were always made to inhale, but Edward swear he saw that old spark in them that had been missing for the past few years.

 

“What are you doing?” Dougherty had stepped out of the crowd, who fell silent, waiting to see what would happen. Only Kristen’s family didn’t react, silently crying through the whole affair. Edward hated them too, in that moment. This was their daughter, their sister, their aunt! Yet they would do nothing but feel shame for her failure – a failure that meant nothing except that the council wasn’t creative enough to find a better use for her than motherhood.

 

“What you are too much of a coward to do,” he replied, grabbing hold of Kristen by her upper arm and tugging her towards the side of the street. Dougherty snarled, latching onto her other side and yanking her back. She stumbled but didn’t resist either man.

 

“Don’t touch my wife,” Dougherty yelled, using his free hand to slap Edward across the face. Edward fell to the ground, but he crawled back to his feet immediately.

 

“So when someone else wants her, she’s your wife, but when she can’t do what you want she’s just a piece of meat to be fed to a monster for your own safety? You have no right to her anymore.”

 

“I have all the right,” Dougherty snorted, “She belongs to me, and I may do with her as I like. Maybe you should give it a try sometime. With someone else, of course. But then again – women aren’t exactly lining up to marry you, I suppose.”

 

“She never belonged to you,” Edward screamed, launching himself forward, “She always belonged to me! I was the only one who saw her for what she could be. I _am_ the only one who truly loves her! She should have been mine!”

 

In one final, desperate move, he grabbed her around the waist, hoping to drag her away, to where he didn’t know. What he did know, was that Dougherty’s grip never slackened, and that the human body was not supposed to make those sounds. Immediately, he released his hands, taking a step back only to see her limp body sag against Dougherty.

 

“No. No, no, no. Kristen!” He fell to his knees, sliding to a stop at her dangling feet. He tried to reach up, feel for a pulse, cup her face, close her eyes, _anything_ – but before he could, another guard stepped out of the crowd and yanked his hands behind his back, binding them. He realized what was happening too late and attempted to struggle. All he got for his effort was a punch from Dougherty in his face and a series of kicks in his stomach. He doubled over in pain, trying not to vomit from the agony and grief and disgust. The tears he couldn’t stop.

 

They dragged him to the prison, threw him in the cell for the evening for Jim to watch while they discussed his fate. And here he sat, bored as a bird in a cage, tapping out a mindless rhythm on the stone and crafting a new riddle about death and sorrow to pass the time.

 

He didn’t know how late it was, but the sun had already set when Dougherty, the rest of the council, and a few more warriors barged into the jail. Jim stood to attention, but they ignored him. Dougherty strode up to the bars, slamming his hand down on one just to watch Edward flinch so he could laugh.

 

“You pulled quite the little stunt this afternoon,” he sneered, “Cost the village our sacrifice. One would almost think you didn’t care about the welfare of the community.”

 

“I – “

 

“Lucky for all of us, we were quickly able to choose a new sacrifice.”

 

Edward met his gaze, knowing what he was about to say next and refusing to give him the pleasure of mocking him again. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and asked, “Is it you? I vote it be you.”

 

“Alas, you are not on the council, so you do not get a vote. And naturally, we chose the most worthless member of the community: you.”

 

Edward gave no reaction. The least satisfaction Dougherty got, the better.

 

“Get up. We’re going now.”

 

“Don’t I get drugs? Don’t I get a ceremony?”

 

“Who would come?” Dougherty laughed, “Besides, you already risked the village with your foolhardy behavior. We need a sacrifice outside the dragon’s lair by midnight tonight or we risk the destruction of everything.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Really? You’re that eager to die?”

 

“It’s the least I deserve. I couldn’t save the woman I love. You, on the other hand, deserve far worse.”

 

“And what are you going to do about it?”

 

“Well, you all thought I was a witch. Cavorting with the devil. I suppose when this dragon sends me to Hell, I’ll have to do just that. I’ll put a word in with the big man before you get there. Maybe I’ll even throw you a welcome party. I’ll make sure you hate it.”

 

Dougherty spat at him, and Edward calmly wiped it off with his sleeve. The council instructed Jim to open the door, he complied, and then Dougherty was roughly tugging him out of the cell.

 

“And after tonight,” he said as he led him to the door of the jail, “I half expected you to have the balls to respond in kind. How disappointing.”

 

“You thought I would stoop to spitting on _you_?” Edward scoffed, “What would be the point? Saliva on your face could hardly lower your palatability, since you’re always so full of shit anyways.”

 

Edward was honestly kind of impressed with himself. He had no idea where his words were coming from, only that no amount of verbal sparring would give Kristen the justice she deserved. But at least it would give Dougherty part of the pain and humiliation _he_ deserved, after everything he put her through.

 

Dougherty snarled, grabbing a rag from the cleaning bucket nearby and shoving it in Edward’s mouth to keep him quiet.

 

“I’ve heard enough out of you,” he hauled Edward outside, tossing him like a sack of potatoes into the back of a small cart, “Bind his legs, too, while you’re at it. Not gonna spare drugs on the bastard, so we better ensure he can’t run away.”

 

Edward struggled, but he knew he was outnumbered. His muffled shouts would call no friends or allies to his aid, had he had any. They closed the back of the cart but didn’t bother covering him, leaving him open to the elements. He supposed it would hardly matter when he was in the belly of the beast. Idly, he wondered if the dragon ate people raw, or if it roasted them first. Did dragons know about seasonings? Were they omnivores? Did they conserve extra meat? How much did a dragon need to survive?

 

This train of thought lasted him over the bumpy paths of the forest and on into the mountains as his bound body was thrown about. He would be bruised like nothing else in the morning, if he made it that long.

 

Finally, he felt the cart stop, and Dougherty came around to the back to toss him to the ground.

 

“I’d love to stay and watch the show, but it’s not tradition, and I won’t risk the dragon’s wrath. As I'm sure you're well aware, the fire of a dragon burns deep. Have a fun night, Nygma.”

 

With that, he walked away, and Edward was left, bound and gagged, at the mouth of the dragon’s cave. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, shivering on the cold, hard dirt. Somehow, he’d never really thought it would end like this; he’d been helpless for so much of his life and survived, only to die, now, helpless as he began to wish for his murderer to appear. With any luck, dragons did prefer their meals roasted; he would so very much like to feel warm again, before the end.

 

Based on the position of the moon, he guessed it was around midnight when he finally heard movement. He frowned around the gag, knowing whatever creature was making the noise couldn’t possibly be big enough to be a dragon. Did bears dare to come this near the dragon’s lair? For a moment he felt fear, before a deeper satisfaction settled in his stomach. What a joke it would be if a bear ate him before the dragon got the chance to, and the people of Gotham had to suffer the dragon as a result, never knowing how freaky little Ed Nygma pulled one over on them.

 

“What have we here?”

 

Edward jumped, as much as he could from his position. There was another person here?

 

Two shiny, black shoes appeared in his field of vision, and he twisted himself around to look up into the pale green eyes of a man he had never seen before in his life.

 

“Oh dear,” the man spoke softly, kindly, but without an ounce of fear, “You’re freezing!”

 

Without further comment, he stooped down and slid one arm beneath Edward’s knees and the other beneath his back and hoisted him into the air. Edward would have gasped, if he could, at the show of strength. There was something he found extremely pleasing about being carried in this man’s arms. Perhaps, his brain informed him, it was the idea that a man who was strong enough to lift him so effortlessly was probably strong enough to defend him, as well.

 

Whatever it was, Edward was almost sad to be set down on a bench. His sadness fled, though, when the man cut his bonds and pulled the gag from his mouth.

 

“Now you just sit there and warm up,” the man told him, “I’ll go get you some tea – and perhaps a bite to eat?”

 

“Thank you,” Edward managed to say, his voice rough from shouting through the gag for so long. A few minutes after he had been sitting by the fire, when the chill finally left his bones, his mind caught up with him.

 

The man had carried him _inside_ the dragon’s cave. This was the dragon’s cave! They were in danger!

 

He stood up, distressed, turning to see the man coming towards him with a tray.

 

“Friend, we must leave!”

 

“What? Why?” the man asked, frowning.

 

“We are not safe here! This is the home of a most fearsome dragon!”

 

The man relaxed, smiling at him, “Don’t you worry your head about that. We’re perfectly safe here. Why don’t you have some tea?”

 

He set the tray down on the bench beside Edward, and Edward saw that alongside the tea was a plate stacked with rolls, tarts, and tea cakes. They smelled better than anything he could remember smelling, and his stomach growled in agreement.

 

“But – but the dragon…”

 

“The dragon won’t harm you,” the man assured him, “That’s not how this works.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I know you must have a lot of questions, and I promise I will answer all I can. But please, eat first. We’re in no rush.”

 

Edward reluctantly sat back down, curiosity fighting with nature as he tried and failed to push down his hunger. Giving in, he accepted the cup of tea and picked a particularly delicious looking cake. Hesitantly, he took a bite, and its soft sweetness all but exploded on his tongue. Before he knew it, he’d eaten another, alongside a couple of rolls and a tart. He was three cups of tea in when he finally started to feel satisfied.

 

“That was the best meal I’ve had in a while,” he admitted, “I like to cook, but I usually don’t have many ingredients to choose from.”

 

“Cooking is a useful skill,” the man nodded, “But I am glad to be able to provide as much for you. No offense intended, but you looked miserable.”

 

“Well, thank you.”

 

“You look tired. Would you like to get some sleep?”

 

Edward stifled a yawn at the thought of curling up on the soft rug he now noticed was beneath his feet and sinking into the bliss of warmth and sleep. Instead, he pinched himself to snap out of it and said, “You promised to answer my questions after I ate.”

 

The man smiled, “I suppose I did. What would you like to know?”

 

“First, your name?” he asked, “I would like to know who my savior is.”

 

“I am Oswald,” the man told him, “Cobblepot. And you?”

 

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Edward, but he couldn’t recall why. He answered, “Edward. Nygma.”

 

“Then welcome, Ed. I assume there’s more you’d like to know?”

 

“Yes. Why are you here? Why aren’t you afraid of the dragon?”

 

Oswald laughed, “I’m here because I couldn’t imagine a better place to be, of course! The dragon doesn’t kill those willing to show him loyalty, and you can imagine how many are willing to be loyal when the other option is death.”

 

“Then… what does the dragon do with us?” Edward asked.

 

“Any sacrifice willing to swear loyalty to him will be given some job or other,” Oswald informed him, “There is an entire dragon realm, over which the dragon king presides. Having regular, healthy sacrifices to keep the wheels turning smoothly is vital to his reign.”

 

“So… he doesn’t eat them? The sacrifices?”

 

“Oh, no,” Oswald snorted, “The sacrifices Gotham sends up have little to offer as a snack. Humans are small, and the ones sent up usually stringy. Not worth the trouble, really. They are much more valuable to him as workers.”

 

“So, your job is… what, exactly?”

 

“I do a lot of things around here. I suppose, in a way, I am the dragon’s steward. I greet the new people, get them set up, run things when he’s away.”

 

“And what will he have me do?” Edward inquired.

 

“No idea,” Oswald answered, “He never greets the new people immediately. He likes to let them get settled, get a feel for them, before he assigns them to their task. I’ll let you know when he’s ready to see you.”

 

“Oh. Okay. What should I do until then?”

 

“Relax, eat, enjoy yourself,” he shrugged, “We are far from lacking in luxuries. But I’m afraid _I_ am lacking in time. I have business to attend to yet, and you must be exhausted. Sacrifices often are – and emotionally drained on top of that. Let me show you to your room.”

 

Edward’s eyes widened, “I have a private room?”

 

“Well,” Oswald looked uncomfortable, “the dragon king has more than one reason for giving sacrifices their own rooms.”

 

Edward nodded in understanding, “I give the criminal a home, the merchant a job, and the holy-man both. What am I?”

 

Oswald stared at him, “Is. Is that a riddle?”

 

Edward nodded, “Do you like riddles?”

 

“I, well, I suppose I know a lot of them. They are quite popular among dragon-kind.”

 

“So, do you know the answer?”

 

“It’s a cell, isn’t it? That’s what you’re getting at?”

 

Edward nodded, excited, “So few people answer my riddles! Usually, they tell me to go away…”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Oswald placed a hand on his arm, and Edward involuntarily flinched, unused to physical contact.

 

“But that _is_ what you meant, isn’t it?” Edward asked, “That the dragon gives us rooms so that we cannot leave?”

 

“That is one reason, yes. But he wants you to be comfortable, too.”

 

Edward didn’t answer. He wouldn’t leave anyways. Not now. There was nothing left for him in Gotham, only misery. Here, though, was a mystery. Who was the dragon? What did he make people do for him? What was the dragon realm like?

 

Oswald stopped in front of a patch of cave wall, put his hand out, and the wall dissolved into a plain, wooden door.

 

“Magic?” Edward breathed, “ _Real_ magic?”

 

“Dragons are powerful creatures,” Oswald told him, opening the door, “This is to be your room.”

 

Edward stepped inside, gasping when he saw the lush interior. The entire thing was covered in a thick carpet. A large stone fireplace was built into one of the back corners, while a water basin stood at the other. In the front of the room was a desk and a wardrobe, and in the very center was a magnificent bed, complete with bed-curtains and silks.

 

“Is this a joke?” he asked in wonderment, “Surely this is not for _me_.”

 

“It is no joke,” Oswald told him, “This is where you will be staying. There are a few outfits in the closet, if you wish to change. Are you good for the night?”

 

“If I am a prisoner here, how will I eat?” he asked.

 

“Breakfast will be on your desk when you wake. I will dine with you at midday and each night, at least until the dragon summons you. I will occasionally accompany you to other features of the dragon’s palace, too.”

 

“Oh,” Edward said, “Alright. Goodnight, then, I suppose.”

 

“Goodnight, Ed.”

 

Oswald softly shut the door, and Edward heard a strange grating sound coming from the other side. Cautiously, he placed a hand on the doorknob. He was surprised when it turned, but his surprise turned to frustration as he realized the door itself would not budge. Well, he _had_ expected as much. Instead, he turned his attention to examining his surroundings further.

 

His clothes were filthy from the dirt and soaked in sweat, so the first order was stripping them off and replacing them with something from the wardrobe. Its contents were simple enough – robes, tunics, and pants in soft wools and silks, plain except for the pattern of gold and purple flames over the hems. Edward wondered if their placement was meant to resemble shackles, or if it were merely a coincidence. At least they were comfortable and retained dignity.

 

He scrubbed the dirt from himself with water from the water basin before donning one of the robes, marveling at its softness. Nervously, he approached the bed, as if expecting someone to leap from the shadows and accuse him of attempting to rob a king the moment he touched them. Finally, he touched them, and when no such figure appeared, he slipped under the covers.

 

The magic of the dragon must have been powerful, as the bright orange light of the fire dimmed to a soft purple the moment he laid down. The warmth of the fire didn’t diminish. Although he felt as though he didn’t belong in the luxurious setting, exhaustion soon overcame Edward, and he fell into a deep sleep.

 

When he woke, the room was lit as if by the pale morning sun, and Edward was disoriented for a minute before recalling the night before. What an absolutely unexpected turn of events. Just as Oswald had said, breakfast was ready and waiting for him on the desk – a bowl of fresh, exotic fruit, and a basket of rolls. Beside it was a pot of tea which stayed at precisely the right temperature throughout his entire meal.

 

After he had eaten his fill, he began exploring more of the room. He spent most of the morning examining the fireplace, trying to figure out how it changed the lighting to suit his needs without him asking it to.

 

By the time Oswald arrived for lunch, he had only uncovered more questions. For example, he discovered that, while he could feel the heat of the fire when he put his hand beside it, sticking his hand into it didn’t burn him. There was no clear way to turn it off, either, since it had no logs on which to feed and yet never died.

 

“Dragon’s fire,” was all Oswald would tell him when he asked. They dined in a gilded parlor, food already laid out when they arrived. Conversation was plentiful as Oswald was an intelligent man, and Edward found he liked his company a great deal. Not to mention, Oswald had a knack for solving Edward’s riddles that endeared the man to him even more.

 

Days passed in this manner – luxurious sleep, rich meals, and lively conversation interspersed with examining his room, making origami figures out of the paper that he discovered in his desk, or being taken to various places in the palace by Oswald. His favorite of these were the trips to the hot springs to bathe and relax, which happened twice a week. Sometimes they would play chess, or Oswald would leave him to himself in the library the dragon kept. Edward wondered idly why a dragon would have a library but figured that dragons _did_ love to collect rare treasures.

 

Over time, though, he began to grow nervous once more. He had been living there for nearly three months, now, and still no sign of the dragon. Not only that, but – Oswald aside – no sign of _anyone_.

 

“Oswald,” he said one day over lunch, “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Seeing as how frequently you do, I think you know the answer to that.”

 

“Oswald where are all the other workers? The other sacrifices?”

 

Oswald paused, looking caught off guard. It was a new look on him.

 

“Oh. Well, many of them do not work in the palace. The dragon’s magic is enough to sustain most of all that.”

 

“Well, where do they live, then?”

 

“In the lowest level of the palace, on the far side of the mountain range from Gotham, there is a great, golden hall where they eat and relax. They all have quarters around it.”

 

“Will I be moved there, when I am summoned?”

 

“Perhaps,” Oswald replied, seeming distracted.

 

“Do you know why I haven’t been summoned yet?” he continued pushing, “Surely this isn’t customary?”

 

Oswald didn’t meet his eyes as he sighed, “No. It’s not.”

 

“Oswald?”

 

“Yes?” he said more clearly, snapping out of whatever trance he had been in, “Do you need something, Ed?”

 

“I – no,” Edward’s shoulders sagged. He wanted to meet the dragon, of course. How fascinating would a _dragon_ be. But being summoned also meant being moved to the main area. And away from Oswald.

 

Three months of his company was enough for Edward to begin feeling things he hadn’t felt since… well, ever. He didn’t like Oswald the way he’d liked Kristen. She had never truly given the impression she liked him back. Oswald, though… Oswald was always happy, genuinely happy, to see him. He engaged in their conversations as an equal partner, sometimes even challenging Edward. He could hold his own in a game of riddles or a game of chess, and every now and then, Edward got to see him show off his strength, even despite his pronounced limp. He _had_ always had a thing for men with muscles…

 

So, while Edward was excited at the prospect of a dragon, the idea that he would go from seeing Oswald multiple times a day to rarely, if ever, weighed heavily on his mind. He’d never had a friend before, and he didn’t want to lose him now.

 

That night, when Oswald came to bring him to dinner, he wasn’t smiling as he often did. Instead, he was contemplative, quiet, hard to reach. Edward felt a chill go through him.

 

Oswald did not lead him to their usual private dining room. Instead, he led him to a large, bejeweled room with a large platform in the center.

 

“Is this,” Edward asked, staring, “Is this the dragon king’s throne room?”

 

“Yes,” Oswald said.

 

“So, he has summoned me at last…”

 

“Is that a bad thing?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Edward answered, “But… where is he?”

 

He heard a sigh from behind him, and then, “He’s right here.”

 

Edward spun around, “What?”

 

Oswald met his eyes reluctantly, “I _am_ the dragon, Ed.”

 

“You? But – you’re human.”

 

“At present, yes,” Oswald nodded, “All dragons can return to their original forms at will.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Dragons are created. They all share the same so-called sex, and rarely reproduce the way animals might. Sexual reproduction can only occur between two compatible dragons, and only when both parties consent to it. Dragon compatibility is a rare and powerful feat, much like the humans’ romanticized notion of soulmates. These are two beings who match each other in almost every way. They are nearly impossible to find, but together their magic is stronger than any single dragon’s ever could be. Anything, including but hardly limited to, the production of biological offspring becomes possible.

No, instead of reproducing sexually, there is a certain formula, a potion, if you will, that can be introduced into the body of any conscious being and alter it to allow it to become a dragon. Of course, the final ingredient of the change, when the body has been prepared by the potion, is to consume the crushed-up scale of a dragon. If the scale is consumed before the body is ready, the newly-made dragon will lose much of its original consciousness in the transformation. _That_ is what I do to most of the sacrifices. The ones who don’t show enough potential.”

 

“And me?”

 

“You were a special case from the moment I met you, Edward Nygma,” Oswald sighed, “I knew I would have to approach you with much more delicacy.”

 

“What do you mean?” Edward frowned, “Why me? Why am I so special?”

 

“Because,” Oswald answered gravely, “You and I… are compatible.”

 

Edward gasped, hand flying up to cover his mouth, “You – you mean… you’re my soulmate?”

 

“In a way,” Oswald nodded.

 

“So, what now?”

 

Oswald raised an eyebrow, “What now? Now you must decide if you will accept me or not. You have been ingesting the potion for long enough to be fully ready to transform.”

 

“What?”

 

“The tea?” Oswald reminded him. He held up a small vial with a gleaming, silver powder inside, “All you need to do now is consume this. You can mix it with anything without spoiling the effects. But… I won’t make you do it. Forcing you to accept me would ruin the magic. You must choose to do this if you are to do it at all.”

 

“And if I do?”

 

“Then you would be my mate. You would rule over the dragons by my side, or reign terror down on the humans, or anything your heart desires. But you would be bound to me. If you become a dragon using my own scale, we will be bound forever. The further and longer apart we are, the weaker we will become. Are you willing to accept that?”

 

“Oswald…” Edward looked at the vial, “I think I have loved you for some time now. I would be honored.”

 

A tear rolled down Oswald’s cheek as he handed over the bottle, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words. I dreamt of you long before we ever met.”

 

He cleared his throat, wiping his eyes and brightening, “I shall fetch you some tea immediately, so you may complete the transformation.”

 

As he passed Edward on his way out of the room, he paused, took his hand, and lightly kissed the back of it, “I am also honored that you would accept my proposal.”

 

He left Edward feeling lighter than he ever had, for once excited about his future.

 

“Ed?! You’re alive?”

 

Edward’s good mood is broken just like that as he spins on his heel and comes face to face with none other than _Jim fucking Gordon_.

 

“I mean, thank god! We were sure you must have been killed by now.”

 

“Jim? What are you doing here?” he managed to ask.

 

“I’ve come to slay the dragon, of course! For too long have we cowered in his shadow, but no more!”

 

“You will never stand a chance on your own,” Edward spoke quickly, hoping to talk Jim out of it before anything worse happened, “You should go. It’s not that bad, I promise. The dragon doesn’t even kill the sacrifices!”

 

“What are you talking about? Has he enchanted you?”

 

“What? No!”

 

“You don’t look so good – something’s wrong with you,” Jim peered at him. Edward supposed the effects of the potion he’d been consuming might have altered him a bit. 

 

“I’m fine, but you should go,” Edward insisted, “The dragon won’t take kindly to invaders brandishing swords, that much I’m sure of.”

 

“Let him come,” Jim sneered, “I’m ready.”

 

“You’re really not,” Edward shook his head, “He’s too powerful for you.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“Well, in that case, I’ll take you back to town and think of something else.”

 

“Good – wait, what? Take me back?”

 

“Don’t worry, Lee can cure you.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Jim sighed, “You need help, Nygma. Come back with me, and we’ll get it to you. Then we’ll find a way to take down the dragon so that he can never torment anyone else again.”

 

“No! I won’t go! You can’t make me!”  


“He has you under his spell, Ed, can’t you see that? He’s controlling you!”

 

“No!”

 

Jim sighed again and shrugged, throwing Edward over his shoulder and heading for the cave’s entrance.

 

“What are you doing? You can’t do this!”

 

“It’s for your own good, Ed,” Jim told him.

 

“No, I can’t leave. I can’t! Please, don’t make me,” he felt his voice tremble as he fought back tears. He couldn’t go back to being the village freak, hated, reviled. He couldn’t! Not after he’d finally tasted love and acceptance and all the things he’d craved in his life.

 

“You’re not yourself. This isn’t like you.”

 

“You don’t know what I’m _like_ ,” Edward spat, “You’ve never bothered to get to know me.”

 

“Well, I know that no human in their right mind would want to stay in the lair of a beast.”

 

“The dragon isn’t a beast, you moron!”

 

“That’s just the conditioning talking. Soon you’ll be right as rain. Lee will make sure of it.”

 

Their conversation continued, much the same, all the way back to the village. Bullock was at the gate, frantic as he let them inside.

 

“What were you thinking, Jim?! You could’ve been killed!”

 

“I did what I had to do. Just like I did when it was you they were threatening to sacrifice.”

 

“I – Christ, is that Nygma?”

 

“Yes, he’s still alive, but the dragon’s put him under some spell.”

 

“I am _not_ under a _spell_! Now. Let. Me. Go!” he flailed helplessly against his captor. Bullock raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean, a spell?”

 

“He keeps saying how he wants to go back.”

 

“Well, why don’t you let him?”

 

“Harvey,” Jim said in a warning tone, “I know you don’t like him, but he’s one of us, same as anyone. Round up the warriors. We’re going to kill that monster once and for all. I’ll take Nygma to Lee then meet up with you.”

 

“No!” Edward screamed again, but it was no use.

 

“Jim?” Lee asked, clearly having been asleep when Jim pounded on her door, “ _Ed?!_ ”

 

“Let me in, Lee,” Jim said, “He needs help.”

 

“I don’t,” Edward repeated himself dully.

 

Jim laid him down on Lee’s operating table and strapped him in to stop him from escaping.

 

“What are you doing?” Lee asked, peering over his shoulder.

 

“He’s under some sort of enchantment, thinks he belongs with the dragon or something. Do you think you can break him out of it?”

 

Lee looked skeptical, “I can try.”

 

“Thanks,” Jim said, pecking her on the lips, “I have to go.”

 

“You want to go up there and kill it, don’t you.”

 

“It’s now or never, Lee. With any luck, it’ll be confused when it finds Nygma missing, and we can take it by surprise.”

 

“Alright… but stay safe.”

 

“I can try,” Jim parroted back at her with a cheeky grin. She rolled her eyes and gave him another kiss before turning back to Edward.

 

“So, Ed, are you alright?”

 

“No, I am not!” he answered firmly, “I don’t want to be here.”

 

“You can’t go back to the dragon, Ed,” she told him, “It’s not safe for you.”

 

“Oh? And it’s safe here?”

 

“Yes – ”

 

“And tell me, who sent me to the dragon in the first place? Who left me bound and gagged in the woods at night? Who? Because it wasn’t the dragon, I can tell you that much.”

 

“Ed,” Lee began.

 

“You know I never belonged here, Lee.”

 

“Alright,” she sighed, “But I can’t let you go, either. The men are all going up to slay the beast, and with any luck, his enchantment over you will break. I’ll help you find a new home, how’s that?”

 

“I already found one, and I _told_ you, there’s no enchantment.”

 

“Is there anything I can get you?” Lee asked, clearly done debating.

 

“Out of here,” Edward muttered, before he remembered, “Actually, yes. I’m terribly thirsty. Is there any way you could get me something to drink? Some tea, perhaps?”

 

“Of course,” Lee smiled at him, “I’ll be back in a moment.”

 

Edward waited patiently, feeling the vial of dragon scale dangling from his belt where he’d stashed it when Jim showed up.

 

“Here you go,” she returned a few minutes later with a steaming cup in her hands. She set it aside and rotated the table until Edward was in an upright position. Crap. She was going to help him drink it instead of untying him. She was clever.

 

“Wait,” he said, “There’s a small vial of sugar on my belt. The dragon had me working in his kitchen, preparing roasted boars and elk and all manner of things. That’s a little bit of pure sugar I stole from him. Dump it in my tea, please?”

 

She hesitated, “Are you sure it’s real?”

 

“Lee, you know how good of a cook I am. I would know, wouldn’t I?”

 

“Alright,” she said, taking the vial and pouring it into his cup, “All of it?”

 

“Yes,” he nodded, “There’s hardly any left, and I’d like to actually taste it.”

 

She finished pouring it in and stirred the tea twice before holding up to his lips and tipping it back for him. Edward gulped down the scale-infused tea, wanting to ensure the transformation would be complete. The longer he waited, the more risks he allowed. As soon as he finished it, he could tell something was different.

 

“I’ll go put this away, but I’ll be right back, don’t you worry,” Lee told him.

 

Yes, she was clever.

 

But not clever enough.

 

The moment she was out of the room, Edward stopped holding back. Raw _feeling_ overcame him, and he felt his very being rent apart. The restraints melted off his limbs as they grew in size and heat and power. As soon as he was free, he ran, not wanting to destroy Lee’s home. Even if she hadn’t been his friend, she had at least treated him like a human being.

 

Once he was outside, the transformation went into full effect. He grew in stature and in scales, while wings sprouted from his back, just below his shoulder blades. Soon he had transformed in full, and immediately he felt the effects of his connection to Oswald. He was being pulled towards the other, and he followed it eagerly. He had to warn Oswald of the approaching forces.

 

Flying came naturally to dragons, it seemed, but when he reached the cave, he realized he was too late. Jim’s forces had already arrived, and Oswald was facing them down in full, glorious, reptilian form. Edward paused for a moment to admire the dragon he loved before he dove into the fray.

 

_Ed!_

 

Oh, so telepathy was a thing, too, huh?

 

_Ed, get out of here!_

 

_“They’ll kill you!”_ he thought back.

 

_They’ll kill_ you _if you stay._

 

_“I’m not going to lose you,”_ Edward insisted.

 

Oswald let out a bellow as one of Jim’s javelins snuck between his scales. Edward leapt in front of him, wings extended, ignoring the frantic shouts of the men as they realized they were facing not one but _two_ dragons. Edward felt a volley of arrows rain down upon his back, but he barely flinched. He’d been hurt plenty in his life, he could take it now.

 

_Ed, what are you doing?_

_“Transform back. I’ll shield you.”_

_What are you talking about?_

_“Become human. Run to their side. Tell them you escaped the dragon’s clutches and fled the cave just in time to see_ their _dragon retreating. I’ll escape while they’re focused on you.”_

 

Oswald hesitated, and then began to shrink back down to his human form. Edward kept his wings spread wide, a curtain to hide their ploy. As soon as Oswald was back to being a human, Edward shifted, and Oswald made a break for the opposing forces, hands held up in a clear sign of surrender.

 

“Hold fire!” Jim shouted as he spotted Oswald coming towards them. The men did so, and Oswald reached them safely.

 

“Wait – Oswald? Oswald Cobblepot?”

 

“Yes?” Oswald answered meekly, a tremor in his voice that Edward would have almost believed, had he not known it was part of his own plan.

 

“You’re alive?”

 

Oswald nodded, “The dragon – he, he makes us work for him. When he left so suddenly, I knew it was my chance to escape. I got out just as he was fleeing back inside.”

 

“My god,” Jim breathed in amazement, “I can’t believe it. Are all the sacrifices still alive?”

 

“Perhaps. I only rarely worked with the others, and even then, it was mostly Edward - but he's disappeared,” he said quietly, before bursting into tears, “Please, am I safe now?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Jim told him, patting him on the back, “Everything’s going to be alright. And don't worry about Edward, he's being treated even now.”

 

“It’s just, it’s been so _long_ ,” Oswald gasped between sobs. _Damn_ , thought Edward, _he’s good._

 

_Why thank you. Don’t you have some escaping to do?_

 

Edward jumped at the reminder, taking flight and heading over the mountain range, in the opposite direction from Gotham. Oswald would be alright. Clearly, Jim knew who he was and would drag him back to the village whether he liked it or not.

 

Now, Edward just needed to decide where to go.

 

In their long conversations, Oswald had told him more about the dragon realm. Edward followed what he knew from those stories towards what he hoped would be a sort of island paradise, populated only by dragons.

 

When he landed on what he hoped was it, tired and wounded, he was immediately surrounded by smaller dragons. They were neither hostile nor friendly, and they did not speak. Instead they simply indicated that he was to follow them, and so he did.

 

They brought him to another hot springs, inside which was a gorgeous, colorful dragon. She held an air of respect about her, and Edward noticed that her eyes were of different colors.

 

“Hello, sweetheart,” she purred, “And who might you be?”

 

“I – uh,” he coughed, unused to speaking aloud in this form, “I’m Edward.”

 

“And what are you here for, Edward?” she rolled out his name like it was a curiosity.

 

“Oswald told me this was a place dragons could come if they were in trouble.”

 

“Oswald said that, did he?” she chuckled, a low sound, “And _are_ you in trouble, honey?”

 

“Yes. Sort of,” he told her, “Oswald was, but I helped him get out of it. This was the only way I could escape afterwards.”

 

“You risked your life for Oswald, hmm? And why would you be doing a thing like that?”

 

“He’s my soulmate.”

 

“ _Oh?_ ” she leaned forward, clearly intrigued, “Well isn’t that just a fascinating little development.”

 

She emerged from the water to better see Edward, circling around him. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

 

“And who are you, if you don’t mind my asking?” Edward asked, hoping to get the attention off himself.

 

“My name is Fish Mooney. I was the original dragon queen,” she told him, “Oswald was sacrificed to me by the village – the first sacrifice, in fact. I made a mistake with him. I let him transform fully. He kept his ambition, his skill. For a time, I cursed myself for that. After his little rebellion. But we have come to an understanding, he and I. These days, I see him as something of a protégé. A son, even. He runs the kingdom, and in return, I live out my days in blissful retirement. He even sends servants to attend me,” she nodded at the dragons standing at attention nearby, “You’ll understand my curiosity in who his lover is, I’m sure.”

 

“Ah,” was all Edward could think to say.

 

When she was finished inspecting him, she nodded, “You’ll do well for him, I’m sure. But now – you are injured.”

 

She snapped her tail in the direction of one of the other dragons, who hastened to fetch medical supplies. As they patched him up, he recounted everything about Oswald’s troubles.

 

“Once you are healed up, I will set you near Gotham, and you can turn back and join him there.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Mooney,” he said.

 

“Not at all, sweetheart,” she told him, leaving him to rest and recover.

 

Soon enough, Edward was healed and antsy to return to his partner. Fish did not go with him personally but sent another dragon to help him navigate his way back. When he was near enough to walk, he said farewell to the dragon and transformed back. Fish had taught him how to do it while he was recovering, but it would certainly take some getting used to.

 

When he reached Gotham, Bullock reluctantly opened the gate for him.

 

“Lee said you made a run for it. What happened?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

 

“I was under the dragon’s enchantment. Whatever the men did up there, they broke it. I was lost in the woods for a few days, but I found my way back.”

 

“Huh. I should let Jim know you’re back.”

 

“Excuse me,” he said, using his most polite voice, “Harvey. There – uh – they didn’t happen to find any of the other prisoners, did they?”

 

“As a matter of fact, they did,” Harvey replied, sounding suspicious, “Why?”

 

“They - they didn’t happen to find a man called _Oswald_ , did they?” he asked.

 

“Yeah. What about it?”

 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Edward collapsed his posture as he played up his relief, “Is he okay?”

 

“He was pretty injured when we found him, but Lee’s been taking good care of him; he’ll make it.”

 

“Is he there now?”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

Without another word, Edward took off in the direction of Lee’s apothecary. He burst through the door, not bothering to knock.

 

“Oswald!”

 

Both Oswald and Lee turned to look at him, but Edward had eyes only for his lover. He ran towards him, and Oswald pulled him into his arms when he got there. Edward took his face in his hands, kissing him long and hard.

 

They broke apart when Lee coughed.

 

“I take it you two know each other?”

 

“We worked together, up there,” Oswald lied, “We only saw each other occasionally during the day, but the nights… those belonged to us.”

 

“Edward? Is this why you didn’t want to leave?”

 

Edward nodded, “I couldn’t leave him.”

 

“When I thought you were gone, I knew I had to escape,” Oswald told him, “No matter the cost, I had to find you.”

 

Lee – and all of Gotham – bought their story. Everyone except Gordon and Bullock, who had hated Oswald long before they’d hated Edward.

 

But the dragons didn’t care. By day, they were human lovers who met under tragic circumstances, and who had retired to Oswald’s family’s abandoned estate outside of Gotham proper. And by night? By night, they occupied the halls of the dragon king’s palace. Oswald soon reestablished himself as a terror to the human population. Having Edward at his side only gave them more to fear.

 

Combined, they ruled over everything. And when they preferred to relax instead of rule, they had a whole host of new sensations to explore together – physical, mental, emotional, and magical.

 

They were the kings of dragon-kind, they were powerful sorcerers, but most importantly, they were each other’s. Oswald put Edward above all else, and Edward would to anything for him. They belonged wholly and completely to each other. Their love was akin to dragon fire: eternal, burning deeper than any human could begin to comprehend. 

 

And –

 

Of course –

 

They lived happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did, please let me know! 
> 
> The rest of the Nygmobblepot week fics will be up... hopefully soon. Unfortunately I'm feeling very under the weather, I have about 3 major academic projects that are more pressing, and on top of that there's a crisis in the organization I belong to, so I haven't exactly had a lot of time (and since I like the ideas I've come up with, there's only so many corners I'm willing to cut). However, I'm determined to finish, even if it's late.


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